


Brought to Heel

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boot Worship, M/M, Rhys as Jack's PA, boot licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Rhys buys some new boots. Jack, naturally, decides to show him up, and digs up an old pair of his own.





	Brought to Heel

**Author's Note:**

> More PA Rhys, this time with some boot kink and hero worship! :) Enjoy!

Rhys’ job as Jack’s personal assistant came with a lot of juicy benefits.

Chief of which, of course, was the treasured opportunity to work on such an intimate level with the King of Hyperion himself. Though Jack could be a bit of a handful—and  _then_ some—Rhys still valued the opportunity to assist his hero, even in the minutiae of his daily life. Seeing Jack in those early hours of the morning, or just as the work down wound to a close, or during those rare times when both of them had to stay overtime, sometimes well into the evening; was a genuine treat even when the stress of running Hyperion ramped up Jack’s changeable moods.

Yet, the privilege of working with Jack wasn’t the only boon Rhys earned through virtue of working as his personal assistant. Of course, there was the smug sense of pride he felt knowing every other Handsome Jack-fan on Helios was seething with envy at Rhys’ exclusive position. He’d seen the quick turns of head and heard the murmurs as he walked to work each morning, and caught wind of some of the more salacious rumors that made him smirk and blush to himself even as he went through such mundane motions of bringing Jack coffee or shredding old paper reports.

And of course, there was the money.

Hyperion paid most of its workers well enough for a company that, at best, dabbled in ethics. Rhys had never gone hungry working as a middle manager, and the apartment he’d shared with Vaughn had always adequately provided their needs without completely sapping up their paychecks.

But working for Jack put his personal wealth on a whole other level.

Rhys had more money now than he knew how to do with. Even ramping up on spoiling both his friends and himself with food and gifts hadn’t made much of a dent. He already owned plenty of stock by virtue of his employment, and he didn’t have any external projects or startups he was particularly interested in throwing personal investment behind.

So Rhys had started pursuing some of his more  _luxurious_  vices. It’d been awhile since he’d updated his wardrobe, after all. He exercised a little restraint, though, and started small.

Small for him, at least.

Rhys had seen the boots in the window at one of the Hub of Hyperion’s luxury boutiques, modeled on the long, chrome legs of one of the display mannequins. He usually didn’t go for knee high footwear, but these glinted in the show lights, highlighting each little scale of the expensive leather. Straps crisscrossed over the shin of the boots, each clasped with a delicate golden “H.” It looked more runway than office assistant, but  _god_ , Rhys had never wanted any pair of shoes more in his life. And considering his already extensive collection—that was saying something.

He’d  _almost_  walked out upon hearing the price from the saleswoman, but he quickly reminded himself just  _how_  much money he was making at Jack’s assistant before slapping down his new, weighty gold Hyperion credit card.  

They were easily the most expensive article of clothing Rhys had ever purchased, but the feeling that washed over him when he walked to work the next morning with the boots fitted perfectly to his legs was worth it.  

He felt powerful, his heels clacking against the steel floor as he strode through the Hub on his way to Jack’s office. Heads swiveled, eyes focused, and gossip flitted about between the people watching him. He felt even more the center of attention than usual, bolstering his ego even as he went through such mundane tasks as grabbing his and Jack’s morning coffee and breakfast. He’d even snagged two complements on his boots already, from the barista making their drinks  _and_  from an excitable young woman who’d just purchased her own purse from the very same store Rhys had got his boots.

Walking into Jack’s office, he was feeling pretty good. Even more psyched to start the day than he usually was, his every step energized as he walked down the hallway towards Jack’s main office door and buzzed himself in.

As always, Jack was already sitting in his desk by the time Rhys arrived. If he didn’t witness Jack leaving at the end of the day, he might assume the CEO just pulled a cot out of his desk and slept there.

Rhys chirped his usual greeting as he deposited Jack’s coffee and breakfast on his desk, taking his time and positioning himself so Jack would hopefully notice his new shoes. At first, Jack ignored his efforts, leaving Rhys frustrated, until he finally decided to just cut to the chase.

“So, I got some new shoes,” he stated loudly, standing off to the side of Jack’s desk. His boss’s eyes flicked up at him over the blue display he’d been studying.

“And…?

“Well, I wanted to get a second opinion, you know. So what do you think?” Rhys slid one hand down his thigh as he stuck his leg out, striking a bit of a pose. Jack raised his eyebrow, leaning out from behind his desk to get a proper look.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Jack stiffened in his chair, eyes instantly zeroing in on the heel of Rhys’ boots. His lower lip stuck out slightly, brows furrowing together. Rhys watched Jack’s throat bob as he turned his boot to the side, showing off the straps and little Hyperion studs properly.

“They’re….they’re  _fine_.” The CEO eventually replied, voice tighter than usual as he forced himself to return to his work.

Rhys smirked to himself. He could tell that Jack liked them. Honestly, he had been hoping that Jack would take notice and appreciate his purchase. And his dirtier side had definitely spent the better part of last night in bed, unable to properly get to sleep because his mind kept drifting to the thought of Jack fucking him over his desk, with Rhys clad in nothing below the belt save those boots.

Well. It was a fun fantasy, at least.

Unfortunately Jack didn’t whisk him off his feet and ravish him with mouth and cock thanks to the boots, but he had given them a long look and complimented Rhys on them, so that was  _something_  at least. Rhys could live with that. They were both professionals, after all. They couldn’t waste time fucking each others brains out, no matter how much sexy clothes Rhys bought.

Rhys caught Jack following him with his eyes as he clacked on over to his own desk. He had an even more confident spring in his step as he walked, brimming with pride he’d distracted his boss so much with a mere change in footwear. He finally flounced down on his chair, kicking slightly away from his desk to show off his boots and the full length of his legs as he nursed his coffee.

Jack ended up getting a little less done that particular workday than Rhys would typically approve of, but in this case, he felt he could let it slide.

* * *

“Good morning, sir.” Rhys approached Jack’s desk with his usually greeting, both of their cups and coffee stuck in a carrier nestled between his forearm and chest and their pastries clutched in his flesh arm. At first he didn’t notice anything amiss, as Jack met him with his usual “hey, sugar,” though he did seem a little bit distracted. Rhys didn’t think much of it, heels clicking to a halt in front of Jack’s desk as he dislodged his coffee from its carrier and deposited it next to his boss’s breakfast. He was just about to leave to enjoy his own meal when a heavy  _bang_  rattled against the surface of Jack’s desk, sending his coffee cup, tablet, and picture frames rattling as he propped his feet up on the table. Rhys’ mouth opened, just about to ask Jack what the  _hell_  he was doing startling him like that, when his eyes suddenly drew to the new shoes the CEO now sported.

Rather, the  _boots_.

Rhys had never seen Jack change his footwear. Honestly, he’d gotten used to the sneakers, even made a couple of light jokes at their expense as soon as he trusted he wouldn’t be tossed out the airlock for insubordination. They were….fine. They didn’t particularly detract from Jack’s image. They were neutral, like club soda in the mojito he drank occasionally to take the edge off work stress.

But these boots.  _These boots_.

They had a sturdy elegance to them unlike the pure functionality of Jack’s usual shoes. They looked obviously worn, not just lifted right out of the box like Rhys’ new boots, with leather slightly ratty on the edges and scuffs on the rubbery toes.

They had a slight heel, leaving Rhys to wonder if they added much to Jack’s height. As it stood, he guessed he had about an inch or two on Jack even without his own boots, so if he got up he might finally be just as tall as Rhys, if not a little taller.

But Jack wasn’t moving from his chair. He sat, one leg crossed over the other, the leather toe of one boot bobbing up and down as Jack watched him with a curled, smug grin. Daring Rhys to speak first, to make the first move.

He swallowed, trying to find his voice, to reel his mind back from a flurry of increasingly dirty fantasies.

“Those…those are some boots.” Rhys finally managed after a moment’s stammering.

Jack’s grin curled further at the edges.

“You like them? Yeah, I saw what you were wearing yesterday, and it reminded me that I have a pair of my own.” He gestured towards his legs. “Dusted ‘em off just for you, cupcake. Congratulations.”

_For_  him. What did that mean? Jack could be teasing him, sure. He wasn’t exactly ignorant of Rhys’ fanboy devotion, in fact it’d been one of the ticks in his favor when he’d been interviewing for the position.

But. Maybe Jack was hinting at  _more_  than a little teasing about his celebrity crush.

Rhys twiddled the finger of his flesh hand, tongue flicking out to lick his upper lip as he watched Jack slid his boots off the desk and rested them again the floor and thought. While he’d learned to bide his time and act only when it was smartest to do so, he couldn’t deny some of his most monumental choices had been made on impulse.

He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed a moment as he counted to four, before putting on the most confident,  _seductive_  face he could muster.

“You know…these are a little dirty.” Rhys’ heels clicked closer and closer to Jack until he was close enough to carefully rest his hand against the arm of Jack’s chair. The CEO’s fingers twitched, but he made no move to grab him or shove him off, especially not when Rhys slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Jack.

“There are ways to clean boots properly…special wax and cloths and stuff. I can get you some after, but….for now…”

He slid his fingers underneath the heel of the boot propped up against Jack’s knee. The older man allowed this, letting Rhys lift the shoe up until the toe nearly brushed against Rhys’ lips. This close, Rhys could see little creases of old blood in the leather, remnants from Jack’s past. An excited, sick little thrill vibrated up his spine at the sight, the slight metallic taste on the tip of his tongue as he opened his mouth and leaned forward.

It was brazen. Crazy. He half expected Jack to lash out and call him a freak, to permanently imprint the heel of his boot into Rhys’ forehead for  _daring_  to do something so forward. But Jack stayed still save for the slight twitch of his fingers against the armrests as Rhys dragged his tongue across the toe of the boot.

Rhys wished he could feel disgusted with himself. He really had no idea how often Jack cleaned these boots, or if he’d even cleaned them  _at all_  before he threw them in his wardrobe to collect dust for years. For all Rhys knew, they could be crusted with more than just blood he could see evidence of. Maybe also guts or brain good or moon dirt that’d probably been crawling with freaky alien microbes.

But he couldn’t help himself. His stomach and groin were tight with need to impress his boss, driving him to lick the toe of Jack’s boots until all the rubber looked slick with Rhys’ saliva. He finished with another gentle kiss to the tip of the boot, eyes finally lifting to see how Jack was reacting.

Rhys had never seen the CEO blush before. Honestly, he’d never really thought it possible. He didn’t understand the exact mechanics of Jack’s mask, how it managed such an obviously artificial look while retaining enough responsivity that he didn’t end up looking like some horrible, uncanny mannequin. It worked well enough as a second face, but still, Rhys had never believed he’d ever see a dusting of pink on those pale, slightly waxy cheeks.

Rhys continued his cleaning, blindly rubbing his tongue against the CEO’s boot as he watched Jack.

Their eyes didn’t meet—instead, Jack’s followed the movements of Rhys’ mouth as he licked the tacky, slightly dry taste from his mouth. His fingers curled against the edge of the armrests, like he needed to restrain himself from bolting up and doing something to Rhys—either to kick his ass for insolence or throw him against the desk and fuck him raw.

_God_ , Rhys wanted that so  _bad_.

He tried grounding himself on the task at hand, tucking away his salacious prayers in the back of his mind as he finished cleaning the tip of Jack’s boots. He pulled away, leaving his tongue hanging like the tease his was, little strands of saliva glistening briefly before falling away. He licked his lips, smiling all coy and curled like a cat up a the man in the chair.

The bulge in Jack’s pants didn’t escape Rhys’ notice, and filled him with a smug sense of pride. Not many could make Handsome Jack himself hard in his pants through only touching his boots. Well,  _licking_  his boots, too.

“There’s still one more,” Rhys murmured, sliding his hands to Jack’s other calf. “May I?”

Jack nodded a little too quickly, his legs uncrossing as he presented his other boot to Rhys’ hands and tongue. Rhys cradled the heel of the boot in his palm, kissing along the tip before pressing the flat of his tongue and cutting a wide swath of wet against the dark rubber.

Rhys cleaned the left boot a little quicker than the right, his own arousal unraveling his patience. Jack’s bulge taunted him out of the corner of his eye—the rumors he’d heard about the CEO’s member apparently confirmed, unless Jack was using some kind of device to enhance himself. Whether or not he lived up to expectations in the department of size seemed irrelevant—Jack could fuck him with his fingers along and Rhys would keen like a desperate slut on every thrust. He wanted badly, unable to stop a soft whine ghosting over the toe of Jack’s boot as he pulled off suckling the toe and looked up at CEO with big, pleading eyes.

To his great relief, he didn’t have to wait long.

“You know, you really need to learn to put your mouth to better use,” Jack grunted, his fingers fisting tighter into the fabric of Rhys’ shirt. He swallowed, the curve of his collar biting into the back of his neck.

“Yes, sir.” Rhys wet his lips as his eyes drifted to the crotch of Jack’s jeans, where a hand had started to fiddle with the zipper. His heart leapt in his chest, beating fiercely against his ribs at the first sign of soft yellow fabric as the CEO undid his pants.

Handsome Jack wore Hyperion boxers.

_Hah_! Rhys had been right all along.

* * *

Ten minutes and one out of many realized fantasies later, and Rhys was wiping a little dribble of Jack’s cum from his lips as he swallowed around the rest. His stomach did a giddy little dance at the realization that Jack’s seed was now  _inside_  him, evidence he’d finally sucked his hero’s cock. The back of his throat burned slightly from where the head of Jack’s dick had repeatedly rubbed up against it, but that pain, as well as the ache in his knees from kneeling so long, felt exhilarating. Like he’d just run and won a marathon.

“ _Well_ …” Rhys started, chuckling hoarsely as he pushed himself up to his feet. His legs trembled, but he finally managed with the help of Jack’s desk to straighten to his proper posture. He glanced over Jack’s resting body, smirking at the flush on his cheeks and the sweat beading over his creased brow. He’d really done a number on the older man, who still sat with legs now spread, his cock out and slicked with drying cum and Rhys’ saliva.

“We…we should probably get you cleaned up, right?” Rhys dared to lean forward and take Jack’s hand, feeling his far larger fingers twitch in the hold. But Jack was dead weight on his arm, not moving even when Rhys gave him an insistent tug.

“Whoops…” A sheepish smile crossed the CEO’s dazed expression, making him look far loopier than the most dangerous man in Hyperion had a right to be. “You know…it really took me a hot second to get  _into_  these boots in the first place and….well…”

Jack shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his quivering knees.

“I’m not exactly used to walking in heels and…anyway…I can’t really move my legs right now.”


End file.
